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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26407366">I Swear I Didn't Mean To</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/teknical_difficulties/pseuds/teknical_difficulties'>teknical_difficulties</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autistic Paul Matthews, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Half Infected Paul Matthews, I'm trying my best, Post-Canon Everybody Lives AU, Self-Hatred, So bear with me please, a lot of the explanations for stuff in this fic are kind of a reach, he apologizes tho dw, let paul and becky be pals you cowards!, mentions of vomiting, songfic but only towards the end, the barneston stuff is really minor bc i don't know how to write tom and becky yet, this thing is just a fuckin hodgepodge man, tom's kind of an asshole in this but he has his reasons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:53:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,415</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26407366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/teknical_difficulties/pseuds/teknical_difficulties</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul almost infects Emma by accident, and the guilt over the incident starts to get to him after the fact.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Becky Barnes &amp; Paul Matthews, Becky Barnes/Tom Houston, Paul Matthews &amp; John McNamara, Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins, Tim Houston &amp; Emma Perkins, Tim Houston &amp; Paul Matthews, Tim Houston &amp; Tom Houston, Tom Houston &amp; Emma Perkins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Swear I Didn't Mean To</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just a heads-up, angst is... not my strong suit. I specialize in mildly humorous dialogue, and fluffy bullshit. So hopefully this won't be a <em>complete</em> train-wreck. Song used is Elaborate Lives from Aida, plus exactly one (1) line from Apology to a Cow from Bat Boy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Friday, October 11, 2019</em>
</p>
<p>It had officially been one whole year since the meteor crashed into the old Starlight Theater in downtown Hatchetfield and almost caused a singing alien apocalypse. One whole year since Paul entered the destroyed building to blow up said meteor, and emerged partially infected by the hivemind's spores. Eleven whole months since Paul started dating Emma Perkins- the cute barista that he'd survived the whole ordeal alongside, and nine whole months since the two started living together. Not everything was perfect, obviously. A romantic relationship between someone who narrowly survived a musical apocalypse, and a half-man/half-singing alien <em>resulting</em> from said apocalypse was <em>bound</em> to start off a little rocky. But somehow, the two managed to adjust to their new situation. Paul got used to the quirks that came with being half-alien, and Emma got used to his new bouts of uncontrolled song and dance. It didn't hurt that The Hive became <em>significantly</em> weaker after the meteor was destroyed, so it's not like Paul was dangerous or anything. Of course, there were still some slip-ups here and there, but for the first time in <em>years</em>, Paul was happy.</p>
<p>The day had played out like any other day. Wake up, do morning routine, go to work (and in Emma's case, go to class after shift ends), come home at around 6-7 PM. Sure, there had been a <em>"It's been exactly one year since our beloved town was nearly wiped off the map by the Apotheosis, blah, blah, blah"</em> report on the local Hatchetfield News throughout the day, but other than that? Almost no acknowledgement of what transpired that fateful day. Fine by Emma, and <em>especially</em> fine by Paul. They didn't need any reminders.</p>
<p>Paul had arrived home at around 7 PM with some take-out Thai food to the sound of Emma rapidly typing away on her laptop. She'd been home for about an hour, and she'd holed herself up in the bedroom to work on an essay for school that was due in a week. At first, she was reluctant to take a break since she'd been- in her own words, "in the zone" for the past hour. But one whiff of the take-out her boyfriend had brought home and the sound of her own rumbling stomach was enough to convince her. The couple ate together in their tiny kitchen, but the moment Emma swallowed her last bite of food, she was back in the bedroom to continue work on her essay. Paul joined her not long after. Mindful of the various notes Emma had scattered across the sheets, Paul turned on the lamp in the dim room and carefully maneuvered his legs under the comforter. Not wanting to bother Emma while she was refocusing on her work, Paul grabbed the book he'd been slowly reading through off of the nightstand on his side of the bed, and shifted his focus to that.</p>
<p>About forty minutes and four chapters later, Paul marked his page and set the book back on his nightstand. He looked over to see Emma <em>still</em> hammering away on that essay like her life depended on it. Her eyes looked tired and almost bloodshot, like she hadn't blinked in several minutes. And honestly? Paul wouldn't have been surprised if she <em>hadn't</em> been blinking. Sighing, Paul shifted closer to Emma and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.</p>
<p>"Aren't you tired?" he asked, nestling against her and resting his chin on her shoulder.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Emma answered bluntly, the energy in her voice low as she tapped away at the keys. "But this essay is important."</p>
<p>"So is sleep." Paul retorted, earning a playful scoff from Emma in reply.</p>
<p>"Smart-ass," she snarked. "Just gimme ten more minutes, I'm about to finish this paragraph."</p>
<p>Paul groaned in mock-exasperation, and threw his arms around her. "You say that <em>every time!</em>" he exclaimed, nuzzling into Emma's neck and letting his lips graze the spot he knew was <em>particularly</em> ticklish for her as he spoke. Paul smiled, taking a moment to savor the feeling of Emma's skin heating up against his face and the higher-pitched-than-you'd-expect sound of her giggles before continuing to tease her. "And so I <em>give</em> you ten more minutes, but then it turns into one more <em>hour</em>, because <em>you</em> don't know the meaning of 'taking a break'!"</p>
<p><em>"Paul!"</em> Emma squeaked out between laughs, using one hand to steady her laptop so it wouldn't fall off the bed as she squirmed in Paul's grasp, and the other to futilely attempt to push his face away from her neck. "This isn't gonna get me to sl<em>-eep, you jackass!</em>" Her voice practically went up an octave mid-word as he began to pepper kisses over the ticklish spot, before she fell into another fit of laughter. Paul gave an exaggerated sigh of defeat as he ceased his playful attack.</p>
<p>"I <em>suppose</em> you're right." he huffed, not removing his arms from around Emma, but sitting up so she could lean against him. She gladly took that offer, and rested her head on his shoulder. Paul pressed a kiss to the top of Emma's head as she got the remaining giggles out of her system, her flushed face providing a pleasant heat to his perpetually chilled skin. After Paul became infected by The Hive and lost most of his natural body heat, Emma <em>always</em> felt warm to him, which was especially nice during this particularly cold Autumn season. Emma liked to joke that The Hive had actually made him part reptile because of it. Thankfully, she never seemed to mind his colder than usual touch.</p>
<p>"Yeah I am, dickhead," Emma sighed, her tone laced with <em>nothing</em> but affection. Paul watched as she saved her progress on her essay- and as she saved again for good measure like she always did, and shut her laptop. "But I'm also tired, so I <em>guess</em> I'll concede defeat, just this once."</p>
<p>Paul removed his arms from around her so he could help clean up her notes. "Well, then I accept your surrender." he teased, gathering some of the scattered papers in his hands.</p>
<p>"Hey, don't get cocky with me, mister," Emma interjected, shooting him a mischievous glare as she set her laptop on her side's nightstand. "You may have won this time, but mark my words, I <em>will</em> get those ten more minutes out of you one day!"</p>
<p><em>"Emmaaaaaa~"</em> Paul sang before slapping a hand over his mouth in surprise. He hadn't meant to sing that. Emma had gotten used to the singing, but he still didn't like doing it in front of her. Mostly out of worry that he might slip and sing something that reminded her of one of the songs The Hive sang them during the Apotheosis, or god forbid, <em>actually sing one of the songs they'd heard</em>. The <em>last</em> thing he wanted to do was trigger a flashback and/or send her into a full-blown panic attack just because The Hive couldn't keep it's (his?) mouth shut. It didn't help that Paul often had a harder time controlling the singing when he was tired, like right now. Thankfully, Emma just snickered in response.</p>
<p>"What, you gonna sing me a lullaby?" she asked jokingly, cleaning up the remaining notes from the bed.</p>
<p>Paul handed her the notes he had picked up, and Emma just set them on top of her closed laptop on the nightstand. "I mean, I could?" he proposed. "If it would help get you to sleep?"</p>
<p>Emma snorted. "I was <em>joking</em>, Paul!" she cackled. Her expression then became more pensive. "But if you're making offers, I suppose there <em>is</em> something you could do for me..."</p>
<p>Paul tilted his head to the side, intrigued. "What is it?" he asked.</p>
<p>"Kiss me goodnight?"</p>
<p>"...Okay!"</p>
<p>Paul leaned forward slightly, expecting nothing more than a quick peck on the lips. So he was more than a little caught off-guard when Emma practically jumped him for a full-on tongue kiss. Not that he was complaining, mind you, this was <em>perfectly acceptable</em>. It had been a pretty long day, and even though the Apotheosis's first birthday hadn't brought anymore danger, Paul had <em>still</em> been pretty paranoid throughout the day. This was an excellent source of stress-relief. As Emma's arms snaked their way around his neck, Paul let his hands wander a bit. One slipped under her hoodie (technically <em>his</em> hoodie, but Emma stole it a few months ago and Paul let her keep it because holy <em>shit</em> she looked adorable in it) to hold the small of her back, and the other found its way to her head so he could run his fingers through her hair. Emma's nails began to circle around the sensitive skin of one of his <em>many</em> burn scars, and Paul couldn't help but hum contentedly into the kiss as his thoughts became a giddy mess of static, the music in his head turning into a disorganized choir of softly ringing bells and Emma's name.</p>
<p>After several seconds of pure heaven, Emma suddenly pulled away and broke the kiss. Paul looked at her with what was probably a <em>very</em> dopey smile on his face, continuing to stroke her hair. He was in <em>so deep</em> with this woman. He was about to make a sarcastic-yet-loving remark about how "goodnight kisses" weren't usually that passionate, but then he saw that Emma was making an odd face and he immediately grew concerned.</p>
<p>"What's wrong, Em?" Paul asked, starting to come down from the high he had experienced. He began to search his still-a-little-blurry-from-elation mind for possible reasons she could've broken the kiss, but the only one that was coming up was that he had bad breath. But that couldn't be right, he had brushed his teeth less than an hour ago!</p>
<p>Emma audibly cleared her throat and swallowed before speaking. "It's nothing, it just got a little..." she paused and fiddled with her hands for a moment, as though she was looking for the right word. "...messy, towards the end there?"</p>
<p>Paul winced, feeling his face go aglow with a bright blue blush. "Eugh, sorry about that," he said with a grimace. He saw Emma smacking her lips, like she had a funny taste in her mouth. Paul did <em>not</em> want this to be the note they ended the night on. "We could... try again? If you want?" he inquired. Paul knew he probably sounded like a huge hypocrite right now, considering how much he had been pestering Emma to get some rest. But holding her and making her laugh had put him in an affectionate mood that he wasn't quite out of yet. Though he would've been <em>totally</em> fine if she had said no.</p>
<p>Emma gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes and smiled. "You, sir, have all the subtlety of a lovesick puppy," she teased. Paul shrugged sheepishly and looked down at his lap, she knew him too well. She lightly lifted his chin up so he was facing her once more. "But since you asked so nicely, I suppose we could give it another sh-"</p>
<p>Emma suddenly froze, and her eyes widened. Before Paul could even ask what was wrong, he felt the hand that was cupping his face begin to tremble. Her breathing became more rapid and unsteady, and Paul noticed tiny beads of sweat forming on her forehead. He gently took her shaky hand in his own, and not only was it <em>freezing</em>, but he could feel her pulse speeding up to a <em>concerning</em> level. Oh god, was she having a panic attack? No, that couldn't be it, Paul had seen her have panic attacks before, they never came on <em>this</em> suddenly! Paul was snapped out of his thoughts by Emma squeezing his hand with a pained whimper. When he looked back up at her face, he could already see tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Whatever was happening, she was clearly hurting.</p>
<p>"Emma? Emma, can you speak right now?" Paul asked, trying to remain calm. Emma simply gave another whimper, a bit louder than the last, in reply. He gave her hand another squeeze. "Wh-what's going on? Are you alright?"</p>
<p>"I-I... I don't kn-know..." Emma stammered out, her voice strained and shaky. "I-I don't feel very w-well..."</p>
<p>Paul muttered out a few "okay's", attempting to reassure both Emma and himself. "Do you feel like you're gonna be sick?" he asked.</p>
<p>"M-maybe? I don't <em>knooowwww~</em>"</p>
<p>Emma yelped in terror as she yanked her hands away from Paul's to clamp them over her mouth. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with fright as tears began to stream down her face. Paul was shocked completely speechless for what felt like several minutes, but was probably only a few seconds, before he spoke up.</p>
<p>"Y-you..." he stuttered, not wanting to believe what he'd just heard. But he'd heard it, clear as day. "Emma, you just-"</p>
<p>"I sang that..." Emma gasped, slowly removing her hands from her mouth. "Wh-why the fuck did I just <em>siiiiing~!?</em>"</p>
<p>Paul began to shake as well. No, no, no, no, no, no, <em>no</em>. This couldn't be happening. Had he managed to infect Emma? <em>How!?</em> Had his mere <em>presence</em> been a danger to her all this time? An intense cacophony of drums began to beat in his head, and Paul noticed Emma moving her hands like she wanted to cover her ears. Not unlike him when he was starting to undergo sensory overload. She whimpered once more, her lips and eyes closed tightly.</p>
<p>"Emma, are you hearing music right now?" Paul asked. Emma nodded with a grunt, as though she was trying to prevent any words from escaping her lest she start singing again. "What does it sound like?"</p>
<p>"D-drums..." she answered through gritted teeth. Paul's stomach sank. They were hearing the same music. Emma gave a loud, <em>painful</em> groan, and her hands shot to her ears. "Really <em>fuuucking~</em> loud drums!"</p>
<p>Completely terrified, and not wanting to see Emma like this any longer, Paul lunged for his cell phone. Emma looked back up at him as he scrolled through his contacts. Before she could ask, Paul simply stated "I'm calling General MacNamara!".</p>
<p>While Paul waited for someone from PEIP to pick up (because MacNamara still refused to get a <em>goddamn cellphone, even though it's 20-fucking-19</em>), Emma curled up into a shivering compact ball on the comforter, her face twisting in agony. One hand over her mouth to muffle the lyrics and the sobs that were uncontrollably pouring from her, and the other over the ear that wasn't pressed up against the bed. Paul rushed to sit next to her and stroke her hair. Let her know that he wasn't going anywhere, give her that sense that things <em>might</em> turn out okay. If Emma was going through even a <em>fraction</em> of the pain Paul had gone through when he was being infected- and she most likely was, then he was going to stay by her side. She would <em>not</em> be suffering through this alone like he had.</p>
<p>"Hello!" a man's voice, presumably a PEIP agent, rang from the other side of the phone. <em>Finally</em>. "This is Mac's Aluminum Siding, how may I help you?"</p>
<p><em>Fuck</em>, Paul had nearly forgotten. John had set up a phony business that answered when you called PEIP's number so that no one could accidentally dial them. If you called the wrong number, you could simply hang up, none the wiser to PEIP's existence. But if you were <em>actually trying to contact John or PEIP</em>, you had to say a specific password, and <em>then</em> they'd direct your call to MacNamara. Smart idea for a top-secret military branch, but <em>so</em> not the type of bullshit Paul was willing to deal with in this dire moment.</p>
<p>Paul could've screamed, he was so frustrated right now. But instead, he just sighed heavily in an attempt to remain calm for Emma's sake, and told the person on the other end the password John had given him. "I'd like to speak to The Swordfish."</p>
<p>"Right! Please hold for a minute, and I'll put him on for you!" the man on the other end said.</p>
<p>Generic cheerful hold music played over the receiver, and Paul took a moment to breathe. Emma shuffled closer to lay her head on his lap, her face streaked with tears. At least she hadn't started drooling blue shit yet, they still had time. Her body began to twitch erratically, and Paul ran his hand up and down her back.</p>
<p><em>"P-Paaaauul~"</em> Emma sobbed musically through her hand. <em>"It huuuurts~"</em></p>
<p>"Shhh, I know, sweetheart. It's going to be okay, everything's going to be okay," Paul gently shushed her, trying to ignore just how much hearing her sing his name frightened him. "J-just try to keep fighting it."</p>
<p>"This is General John MacNamara of the United States Military, Special Unit P-E-I-P," a much deeper, more official voice said from the other end of the phone. "You wished to speak with me?"</p>
<p>"General MacNamara!" Paul cried in relief. "It's Paul Matthews! I-"</p>
<p>"Paul!" John exclaimed, sounding pleasantly surprised. "How are you and Emma holding up?"</p>
<p>"I think I accidentally infected her!" Paul explained, skipping the small-talk.</p>
<p>"You <em>what!?</em>"</p>
<p>Paul winced at the harsh volume of the general's voice. "I-I don't know how it happened! I just-" Paul cut himself off, the realization slowly setting in. "I just... <em>kissed her</em>, and she started shaking and freezing up and <em>singing</em> a minute later...". <em>That's</em> why she said their kiss was 'messy', why she looked like she'd swallowed something bad. Paul had accidentally vomited some of his blue shit down her throat. It really <em>was</em> all his fault...</p>
<p>"Okay, Paul, I need you to listen to me," MacNamara ordered, his stern voice snapping Paul out of his thoughts. "The Hivemind was severely weakened when you destroyed the meteorite, so you should still have time to save her before the infection fully sets in. Get her to St. Damien's Hospital in downtown Hatchetfield, our medical experts here at PEIP have been training their doctors to deal with situations such as this one for the past year, should the occasion arise. I'm currently in Pennsylvania on a scouting mission with Lex and Xander, so I can't be there to offer my assistance, but I'll call and let them know you're coming."</p>
<p>"Thank you so much, John, really!" Paul said gratefully, tightening his grip on Emma's shivering form ever so slightly. Though the knowledge that Paul's own carelessness was what caused this mess in the first place was starting to sink in and weigh him down, John's reassurance that it wasn't too late helped lighten the load. Just enough.</p>
<p>"Don't thank me yet, son," the general scoffed. "Just get Emma to St. Damien's, <em>pronto</em>."</p>
<p>"Yes, sir." Paul finished, ending the call and stuffing his phone in the front pocket of his pajama pants. He stood up from the bed, and scooped Emma up into a bridal carry.</p>
<p>"Wh-what<em>-what did he saaay~?</em>" Emma sang shakily, removing her hand from her mouth for the first time since Paul picked up his phone. "Where are we g-going?"</p>
<p>"Don't worry, Emma," Paul reassured her, carrying her out of the bedroom and hastily slipping on a pair of shoes. "There's still time, I'm taking you to St. Damien's."</p>
<hr/>
<p>The next several minutes were a half-coherent blur. Paul had set Emma in the passenger seat of their car, gotten into the driver's seat himself, and started the drive to the hospital with his brain practically on auto-pilot. Part of him wanted to drive over the speed limit just to get them to St. Damien's as fast as possible, but he knew that if he started driving carelessly, it would only freak Emma out even <em>more</em>. Part-way through the drive, Paul suddenly realized that he was absolutely <em>frigid</em> because he was only wearing an old Sycamore Timberwolves t-shirt that somehow still fit him and a pair of flannel pajama pants. Emma at least had her hoodie and a pair of joggers on, but Paul had <em>completely</em> forgotten to give her a pair of shoes in the rush to get to the car, so she was totally barefoot. Too late to turn back now, just keep driving.</p>
<p>The ride was spent mostly in silence, with only the rumble of the car's engine and Emma's muffled sobs and hums through her hands to be heard. Paul's slow-beating heart ached for her, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold her. But he couldn't. He snuck a few glances at her every now and then, just to make sure she was holding up okay. Even <em>with</em> The Hive's enhanced night-vision, Paul had some trouble seeing her properly in the darkness of the car. She'd pulled her hood up over her head and curled herself up into a fetal position. At the very least, there weren't any tiny electric blue lights shining where Emma's normally brown eyes should be, so that was good. Paul couldn't look over at her for too long though, or Emma would give a muffled cry that sounded vaguely like <em>"Keep your eyes on the fucking road, Paul!"</em>. So he did. Thankfully, there wasn't much traffic on the way to St. Damien's, so the car ride only took about fifteen minutes.</p>
<p>Sure enough, when Paul speed-walked into the front lobby of St. Damien's with Emma in his arms, the staff was already prepared for them, much to the confusion of the four-or-five other people in the waiting area. Within seconds, Paul was helping the nurses load Emma onto a stretcher, but when he tried to follow them down the hallway, a male nurse stopped him.</p>
<p>"Wh-what are you doing?" Paul asked impatiently, watching as Emma was wheeled down the hall and out of his sight. "Lemme through, I need to be with her!"</p>
<p>"You're Paul Matthews, correct?" the nurse asked calmly. Paul nodded, annoyed. What the hell did this have to do with anything!? "When General MacNamara called and told us you'd be coming, he gave us <em>explicit</em> orders to have you and Miss Perkins separated while we go through with the infection removal procedure."</p>
<p>"What!? Why?" Paul spat irritably. God, he could <em>throttle</em> that man right about now!</p>
<p>"According to our records, you were rendered partially infected by the meteor's spores," the nurse prattled on as Paul tapped his fists together anxiously. "And you were unable to be cured, as the surgery necessary to remove all the spores had a high risk of giving you permanent brain damage, so you willingly chose to remain half-infected."</p>
<p>Paul scoffed. <em>'Willingly'</em> isn't exactly how Paul would've worded it. But he brushed that aside, wanting to see where the nurse was going with this little spiel. "Yes, and your point <em>is...?</em>"</p>
<p>"If the general's speculation is to be believed, having you two in the same room could strengthen Miss Perkins's infection," the nurse explained, generously patient. Paul's breath caught in his throat. Was he implying...? "Thus, complicating- and possibly jeopardizing, the curing process. So General MacNamara thought it would be best to keep you two separated while we remove the infection from her system, just in case."</p>
<p>Paul couldn't <em>believe</em> what this man was telling him right now. "B-but I was the one who <em>drove</em> Emma here!" he argued, growing more and more paranoid. "What, does he think that I did this on <em>purpose</em> or something!?"</p>
<p>The nurse sighed and shook his head. "Please, try and remain calm, Mr. Matthews," he said. "It wasn't my decision. I'm just repeating what we were told by the general. There could be <em>no</em> truth to it whatsoever, but better safe than sorry."</p>
<p>Paul gave a shaky exhale and stumbled backwards. The more he thought about John's reasoning, the more it made sense to him. There had been <em>hundreds</em> of infected people in the room with him when <em>he</em> was infected, and that came on within the span of three or four minutes! Who's to say Paul's presence <em>hadn't</em> been causing Emma's infection to spread faster? The nurse- clearly sensing Paul's distress, gently guided him towards a nearby chair and eased him onto it. The moment he was sat down, he buried his face in his hands, shaking with sobs. Paul normally didn't let himself get this emotional in public, but this stupid <em>fucking</em> infection didn't exactly <em>let</em> him hide his emotions anymore.</p>
<p>"It's going to be alright, Mr. Matthews. Miss Perkins should be undergoing our specialized treatment as we speak," the nurse reassured him. "It's the very same treatment we used to cure the rest of Hatchetfield's citizens of <em>their</em> infections. And thanks to your haste in bringing her here, she should be cured of her's within an hour and a half!"</p>
<p>Paul hummed miserably into his hands in reply. Though the nurse's words were comforting to hear, he was <em>not</em> in the mood to speak right now. He felt the nurse place his hand on his shoulder.</p>
<p>"I have to go now, but we'll send somebody to check up on you in ten minutes," the nurse said. "Is there anything you need before I head back upstairs?"</p>
<p>Paul took a moment to think before speaking up. "C-could... could you call someone for me and let him know what's going on?" he requested, sheepishly looking up at the nurse. "His name is Tom Houston, he's Emma's brother-in-law."</p>
<p>"Of course!" the nurse complied. "Do you know his number?"</p>
<p>Paul nodded and gave the nurse Tom's number to write down. After that, Paul was left alone in the waiting room with four random strangers to ruminate on his thoughts. Four random strangers who were staring at him with burning, judgemental eyes. Four random strangers that had probably been listening in on his conversation with the nurse, and had probably pieced his situation together. Four random strangers who <em>knew</em>. Knew that he was the wannabe hero who blew up the meteor a year ago. Knew that he was the half-dead alien <em>freak</em> that was singlehandedly preventing their town from being 100% clean of the Apotheosis. Knew that he had <em>somehow</em> managed to accidentally infect his girlfriend.</p>
<p>And speaking of, oh god, <em>Emma</em>. Paul knew that not everything would be all sunshine and daisies 24/7, but he couldn't have ever <em>imagined</em> fucking up this bad. Emma was Paul's favorite person in the <em>world</em>. They had connected so quickly, and somehow they managed to survive the goddamn apocalypse together. She'd been so ecstatic when she found out he'd survived blowing up the meteor that she'd nearly tackled him to the ground in a bear hug when they were reunited. She'd gotten used to his newfound alien quirks because she cared <em>that much about him</em>. She trusted him enough to let him hold her, kiss her, and sleep next to her every night. To invite him into her family, her home, her <em>life</em>. She trusted him, and Paul had hurt her. He'd subjected her to the ungodly pain of being infected by a slave of The Hive. The sight of her twitching, shivering body curled up on their bed, trying desperately to stifle the sobs and lyrics with her hands would undoubtedly haunt him for <em>months</em>. Accidental as it was, how could Emma ever look him in the eye again?</p>
<p>"Paul?"</p>
<p>Paul looked up at the sound of a woman's voice saying his name, his face blue-flushed and tear-stained. Much to his surprise, it was Becky Barnes, approaching him with a kind smile and a pale yellow blanket slung over her shoulder. Paul had no idea <em>why</em> he was surprised by her presence, she fucking <em>worked here</em> after all.</p>
<p>"B-Becky!" Paul exclaimed, wiping his face down. Wait, was he allowed to call her by her first name here? "I mean, Nurse Barnes? <em>Ms.</em> Barnes? Er... hi."</p>
<p>Becky gave a soft chuckle and sat down in the chair to his right, seemingly not minding his failed attempt at a greeting. "I was told to come down here and check on you," she explained, pulling the blanket off of her shoulder and unfolding it. "They said that you'd been shaking like a leaf since you came in the building, so I brought this with me."</p>
<p>Paul smiled weakly as she gently draped the blanket over his shoulders. Honestly, he'd been so caught up in his thoughts and anxieties that he'd completely <em>forgotten</em> how cold he was. "Th-thanks..." he muttered appreciatively, running his fingertips over the material. It had a nice texture, very fuzzy. "How's Emma doing? Is she okay?"</p>
<p>"She was cooperating fine with the doctors when I left the room," Becky said, wearing an expression that Paul couldn't read. "But she sounded <em>very</em> frightened, and I think I heard her say something about her leg hurting?"</p>
<p>Paul winced. "Yeah, she has a bad leg," he explained. Cold temperatures often made it ache, and Paul had <em>somehow</em> forgotten that. He didn't even think to take her painkillers with them. God, could he do <em>anything</em> right? Paul shook his head, trying to think up a way to change the subject. "Hey, the nurse I was talking with earlier mentioned an 'infection removal procedure'. What exactly does that entail? Like, specifically?"</p>
<p>Becky shrugged. "I'm not completely sure, to be honest. PEIP hasn't gotten around to training the nurses in the procedure yet, so I'm in the dark for the most part. I just know that part of it involves stomach pumping," she answered. Paul suppressed a shudder. He'd never gotten his stomach pumped before, but it didn't sound very pleasant from what he'd heard about it. "And since I don't know the procedure yet, they sent me down here."</p>
<p>"I see..." Paul muttered under his breath.</p>
<p>"It's probably for the best, I don't think Emma would've wanted my help anyway," Becky chuckled humorlessly. "I can tell she doesn't like me very much."</p>
<p>"Hey, that's not true!" Paul exclaimed, earning a skeptical look from Becky. Well, it was kind of true. Emma hadn't exactly been <em>happy</em> to hear that her brother-in-law got back together with 'Becky fucking Barnes' barely over a year after Jane died. Paul vividly remembered overhearing a heated argument between her and Tom about it while he and Tim were playing Mario Kart together. Tim had paused the game, tears resting at the corners of his eyes, and leaned against Paul's arm. Neither of them spoke, Paul just did his best to comfort his... <em>Emma's</em> nephew in silence, all while Tom and Emma screamed at each other from the other room. That had been a few months ago, and although Emma seemed to reluctantly accept Tom and Becky's rekindled romance now, she still didn't talk about Becky with much fondness. Though at this point, Paul was pretty sure she was more mad at <em>Tom</em> than Becky. "Just give her some time, I'm sure she'll come around soon enough."</p>
<p>"I hope you're right, Paul," Becky sighed, folding her hands in her lap. "For everyone's sake."</p>
<p>Just then, Paul's attention was drawn to the eye-catching plaid red shirt of a man walking up to the front desk, followed closely by a young boy with a messy mop of curls on his head. Tom had shown up! Not only that, but he'd brought Tim with him! The whispers in Paul's head had been telling him that Tom wouldn't care enough to come, but he was really here! Becky followed his line of sight, and her eyes lit up at the sight of the former shop teacher and his recently-turned-ten year old son.</p>
<p>"Tom!" she called across the room, her voice <em>just</em> light enough to avoid disturbing the remaining two other strangers in the waiting area. Tom and Tim both turned to face them, then each other. Tom muttered some hushed words that sounded vaguely like 'Go on, I'll meet with you guys in a second' to his son, and Tim jogged over to the nurse and businessman duo. Becky turned back towards Paul, a small smile and a light blush spreading across her face. "Did you call them?"</p>
<p>"Eh, <em>technically?</em> I asked the staff to call Tom because I was too freaked out to do it myself," Paul answered with a shrug. "Honestly, I didn't think he'd actually show up. Much less bring <em>Tim</em> with him."</p>
<p>Before Paul could greet Tim, the kid suddenly latched onto him in a tight hug. It took his brain a second to comprehend what was happening. Tim had always referred to Emma as 'Aunt Emma', but Paul was still just... well, <em>'Paul'</em> to him. No 'Uncle Paul''s yet. Which was <em>fine</em>, Paul was still a relatively new part of the Houston-Perkins family. It just made the moments where Tim displayed outright affection towards him all the more surprising. Paul hugged the boy back, grateful for the comfort, and surprised by the tightness of his grip. He <em>definitely</em> inherited some of that arm strength from Tom. Or Emma. Paul could believe either, really. After several seconds, Tim pulled away from the hug, and the first thing Paul noticed was that his wide brown eyes were noticeably red and puffy.</p>
<p>"Is Aunt Emma okay?" Tim asked, his eyes frantically darting back and forth between Paul and Becky. His voice was small and shaky, and now Paul was <em>positive</em> he'd been crying at some point before arriving at the hospital with Tom.</p>
<p>"Emma's going to be just fine, sweetheart, don't worry," Becky said, gently pulling Tim into a hug of their own, her eyes aglow with a motherly sort of affection. Paul was always stunned at how well Tim and Becky got along, whenever he saw them together, that is. It really seemed like she'd always been a part of his life sometimes. "They're working on removing the infection as we speak."</p>
<p>"Hey, how'd this happen, anyway?" Tom asked as he strode over, his eyes fixed on Paul. Becky and Tim turned to face him as well.</p>
<p>"I..." Paul began meekly, fidgeting in his seat under Tom's intense gaze. Tom had always been sort of wary when it came to Paul's half-alien nature. Not without reason, though. Paul didn't have <em>all</em> the details, but apparently Tom had been infected in a particularly grisly fashion. He still had a monster of a scar on his back from it. So Tom didn't fully trust Paul yet, and he really couldn't blame him. A lot of people were the same way. Everyone in Hatchetfield knew there was a half-alien resident walking among them, not everyone knew who it <em>was</em>, though. Paul had overheard a lot of nasty speculation over who the "undercover zombie" could be over the course of the year. The only Hatchetfield citizens who actively <em>knew</em> about his "situation" were Emma, Tom, Tim, Becky, Bill, Alice, Deb, Ted, Charlotte, Melissa, Sam, Mr. Davidson, Professor Hidgens, Nora, Zoey, and that girl from Greenpeace whose name Paul still didn't know. Not even Paul's own <em>mother</em> knew yet. Knowing that this wasn't going to earn him any points with Tom, Paul sighed and began to explain how Emma was infected. "Here's what happened..."</p>
<hr/>
<p>"...MacNamara told me to bring Emma here, and I did, so that's where we are now."</p>
<p>As Paul finished the story, he looked over at Tim, whose expression was unreadable. Tom, on the other hand, had a <em>very</em> readable expression. That of undeniable <em>rage</em>. This was it. It was over. Paul had fucked <em>everything</em> up. With Emma, and with her family. Something was rising in his throat, but he couldn't tell if it was a sob, a note, or blue shit. Tom gave a bitter laugh.</p>
<p>"I knew it," he grumbled. "I told Emma that she was making a big mistake, dating you. And now look where we are! All because you couldn't keep your damn slime down!"</p>
<p>Paul found himself doing a double-take. "Ex<em>cuuuuuse me~?</em>" he asked, the note slipping out on it's own. Not that he <em>could've</em> stifled it, if tonight was any indication. He stood up from his chair for the first time in nearly thirty minutes. "Are you suggesting that I did this on purpose? That I <em>waaanted~</em> to hurt her?"</p>
<p>Tom took a step back. "Maybe I am," he said, eyeing Paul as though he'd lunge at him at any moment. "I don't know what those spores in your brain are makin' you do. You might be losin' your mind for all I know."</p>
<p>"Tom, please-" Becky began to say.</p>
<p>"I-I'm-<em>I'm not here to harm her~</em>" Paul sang out with tranquil fury, cutting Becky off. He'd been repressing his urge to sing for Emma's sake (as well as the remaining people in the waiting area, who were watching this argument play out like it was a Hitchcock movie), but now it was beyond control, and it felt <em>wonderful</em>. A low droning piano hummed in his brain. <em>"I only want to-"</em></p>
<p>"For Christ's sake, <em>stop fucking singing!</em>" Tom barked harshly, his eyes wild and his veins damn near popping out of his forehead.</p>
<p>"Will you two just <em>shut up!?</em>"</p>
<p>Paul and Tom both whirled their heads around to face Tim, who was scowling and red in the face with Becky's hands on his shoulders. Paul swallowed the blue shit that was welling up in his throat as the music in his head died down, and Tom's face immediately blossomed with regret. "Dad, if Paul says it was an accident, then it was an accident," Tim said, his eyes welling up with tears of anger. "Paul, your singing isn't helping anything!"</p>
<p>Paul sank back into his seat and buried his face in his hands. <em>"I knoooow~"</em> he crooned pathetically. He cleared his throat and shook his aching head before continuing. "I'm so sorry, bud. For all of this."</p>
<p>Tom gave a long exhale and walked over to his son. "I'm sorry too, Tim." he said hoarsely, sitting down next to him.</p>
<p>"Well," Becky chimed in awkwardly, catching the attention of the other three. "I'd best be going now. I'm sorry I couldn't be more help."</p>
<p>"Don't say that," Paul whimpered, his head filled to the brim with emotions that he was too exhausted to let out. "You've been a great help today."</p>
<p>Becky gave a small, thankful smile. "I'll come back next time we get news on Emma's condition." she promised.</p>
<p>Paul's head continued to throb painfully as Becky made her way over to Tom to give him a quick kiss goodbye. All he wanted to do was go home with Emma and sleep for days. Despite the ear-grating synth music that had started up in his mindspace, Paul could just <em>barely</em> hear Becky whisper something to Tom before she left. He didn't catch all of it, but he was pretty sure he'd heard the word 'apologize'. There was no speaking between the trio for an uncomfortably long time. The remaining two people in the waiting area had <em>finally</em> left, so it was just the three of them. Tim had laid his head down in Tom's lap, taking some time to rest his eyes. Paul had taken to staring at the blue-tinted scars on his hands and arms. He had a multitude of scars all over his body from blowing up the meteor, and he usually took the time to cover them up with makeup before leaving the house. At least the ones that wouldn't be covered up by his clothes that day. Without the makeup, Paul felt so <em>exposed</em>. He tried wrapping the blanket Becky had lent him around himself to at least hide the arm scars, but the fuzzy material brushed uncomfortably against the raw patches of skin. Why the fuck was he still using the blanket? Paul was cold all the time anyways, so what difference does it make?</p>
<p>"Hey, Paul?" Tom suddenly piped up in a hushed voice so as not to wake Tim.</p>
<p>"Yeah?" Paul muttered, not even bothering to look up.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry for freaking out on you earlier," Tom began, running his hand up and down Tim's back. "I know how much you care about Emma, and I shouldn't have immediately assumed the worst."</p>
<p>"S'okay," Paul sighed, not really having the energy to think otherwise. "I probably would've done the same, honestly."</p>
<p>There was another several seconds of silence before Tom spoke up again. "Y'know, I <em>do</em> care about Emma," he said. Paul looked up at him reluctantly. "Sure, we argue a lot, and I didn't like her much when she first came back to Hatchetfield. But she's good to Tim, and I can tell she's trying her hardest. 'Specially now after all this alien shit went down."</p>
<p>Paul stayed silent, not really knowing how to react to this sudden opening-up. From <em>Tom</em>, the man who took three months to even bother memorizing his <em>name</em>.</p>
<p>"All in all, I'm glad she decided to come back," Tom finished up, the tiniest hint of a smile appearing on his face. "Moreso that she decided to <em>stay</em> after everything that happened."</p>
<p>Paul smiled despite himself. After thinking that Tom still didn't like Emma for <em>so long</em>, it was nice to hear his true feelings. Still not quite knowing what to say, Paul simply took the blanket off of his shoulders, and handed it over to Tom with an appreciative look. "Here," he said. "Tim can use this. I don't need it anymore."</p>
<p>Tom took the blanket from Paul's hands and carefully placed it over his sleeping son, looking down at him warmly. Now knowing that Tom was no longer mad at him, Paul began to relax a bit. Obviously, he was still scared for Emma, and every passing minute with no news felt more like an hour. But at the very least, the uncomfortable tension in the room had vanished. The horrible screeching synth playing in Paul's head had quieted down, and soon synced up with the calm easy-listening music that was being played over a speaker in the waiting area. Honestly, playing music over a speaker in a town that had narrowly survived a musical apocalypse didn't seem like the <em>smartest</em> decision in the world, but dead silence had a way of making Paul antsy ever since he got infected, so he wasn't going to complain. Time ticked by ever so slowly, and Paul might've fallen <em>asleep</em> if it weren't for the overly-sterile hospital smell, he was so exhausted. All he could do was pull out his somehow-still-alive phone and aimlessly tap around for the next hour or so. Until...</p>
<p>"Paul? Tom?" Becky's voice suddenly piped up as she entered the room, jolting both Paul and Tom out of their heads. The two looked up at her expectantly. "The treatment was a success. The infection has been completely wiped from Emma's system. She's ready to see you now, if you'll follow me."</p>
<p>Without a moment's hesitation, Paul rose from his seat. Emma was okay! His heart and the alien half of his brain were telling him to sing a joyful melody, but common sense and the <em>human</em> part of his brain were telling him that <em>maybe</em> now wasn't the best time. Thankfully, common sense and his human brain won out. Tom gently woke Tim from his catnap, who- upon being told that Emma was okay, immediately sprang off of Tom's lap in excitement. The three looked to Becky to silently show that they were ready to see Emma, and without a word, she gestured for them to follow and left the room. Paul, Tom, and Tim kept pace close behind her. A few turns, one elevator ride up to the third floor, and another left turn later, the four had arrived at Emma's room. Becky opened the door and poked her head inside.</p>
<p>"How're we doing in here?" she asked, her voice soft.</p>
<p><em>"Uuugh..."</em> Emma's voice groaned from behind the door. She sounded <em>exhausted</em>, but not pained. Paul bit back a smile.</p>
<p>Becky nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, I figured as much," she chuckled. "But I've got some visitors for you!"</p>
<p>Becky opened the door fully, and the <em>moment</em> she stepped out of the way, Tim came barreling into the room with an excited cry of "Aunt Emma!". Emma's tired eyes lit up at the sight of her nephew.</p>
<p>"Tim!" she exclaimed, pulling the boy into an awkward half-hug from her laid-down position on the bed. "How ya doin', bud?"</p>
<p>"I should be asking <em>you</em> that!" Tim giggled, the relief in his voice evident. "I'm so glad you're alright!"</p>
<p>Paul, Becky, and Tom watched the scene playing out before them with affection, letting the two have their moment. As Tim broke away from the hug, Paul felt his feet carrying him towards Emma. What was she going to say when she saw him approaching? Fuck, what was <em>he</em> going to say? All of his fears from an hour ago began to bubble up in his head again as he dragged himself to the unoccupied side of the bed. Emma looked up at him.</p>
<p>"What's up, nerd?" she asked teasingly. A shaky breath escaped Paul. She wouldn't be calling him 'nerd' if she was mad at him.</p>
<p>"Oh, <em>Emma...</em>" he sobbed out, his voice breaking a bit on her name. His legs began to buckle beneath him, and he knelt beside the bed. Emma held out her hand for him, and Paul gently took it in his own. He placed a kiss over her knuckles before looking back up at her face. Though clearly exhausted, she wasn't shaking or sweating or crying or <em>singing</em> anymore. Her eyes were still that gorgeous shade of brown, not the obnoxiously bright electric blue of his own eyes. She was still human. She was still <em>her</em>. Paul choked out another sob, pressing his forehead to the back of her hand. "I'm <em>so</em> sorry..."</p>
<p>As Paul began to shake with tearless sobs, he felt Emma unwrap her other arm from around Tim and run her free hand through his hair, her nails lightly grazing his scalp. "Paul, can you look at me?" she asked, her voice gentle yet firm. Paul tilted his head up slightly, just enough to see the softness in Emma's stare as she looked at him. "It's <em>fine</em>. I know you didn't mean to. It's okay. <em>We're</em> okay."</p>
<p>Paul couldn't bring himself to speak, he'd gone nonverbal. All he could do was hum in understanding, and hope Emma picked up his meaning. And judging from the small crooked smile that crossed her face, she most likely did. She removed her hand from his hair and wrapped it back around Tim.</p>
<p>"Besides, I'm glad that I got to at least see my two favorite guys in the world tonight," Emma said, looking back and forth between her boyfriend and her nephew as she spoke. Her gaze briefly flitted up to Tom, who was now standing at the foot of the bed. "And Tom too, I guess."</p>
<p>Tom smiled. "Love you too, sis." he snarked.</p>
<p>One of the doctors, who'd been so quiet since they entered the room that Paul hadn't even realized he was there, spoke up. "Alright, Miss Perkins," he began, looking through what appeared to be notes on a clipboard as he stepped forward. "You're free to go home once you're ready."</p>
<p>Emma sighed in relief. "Thank <em>god...</em>" she huffed, earning the tiniest of chuckles from Paul, who was still resting his head on her hand.</p>
<p>"Mr. Matthews?" the doctor asked. Paul gave a hum as he directed his gaze towards him. "Miss Perkins may experience some side-effects of her treatment in the morning. Dizzy spells, nausea, low energy, possible fever symptoms, you know the drill. She should spend tomorrow recovering her energy, and we advise that you both call into work in the morning."</p>
<p>Emma gave Paul a playful jab with her finger. "You heard the man," she teased, a small yawn escaping her as she eased herself into a sitting position. "You're spending tomorrow treating me like a goddamn queen, doctor's orders." Light laughter rang throughout the room in reply to her snark.</p>
<p>Paul nodded in understanding. Honestly, he probably would've done that anyway. Though he <em>was</em> wondering what part of this treatment was causing all these damn side-effects. He finally stood up, running his hand over Emma's hair once more.</p>
<p>"Will you need help getting her to your car, Paul?" Becky asked.</p>
<p>Emma, always keen on when Paul had gone nonverbal, helpfully chimed in to answer for him. "Lemme stand up first, and we'll go from there."</p>
<hr/>
<p>Thankfully, Emma <em>was</em> able to stand, though the aforementioned dizzy spells were already kicking in, so she had to lean on Paul for support. After a round of goodbye hugs, thank you's for the doctors and Becky, and of course Paul receiving the medical bills that he would wait until Sunday to pay, Paul and Becky walked Emma back down to the first floor. Once they got to the parking lot, though, Paul decided he would just carry the already half-asleep Emma to the car. After one final goodbye to Becky, he scooped Emma up into a bridal carry and made his way to the car. As Paul started the vehicle up, he almost turned the radio on out of habit for late-night drives, but quickly thought the better of it. He checked the clock. It was 10:43 PM.</p>
<p>"Looks like I got those ten more minutes out of you after all..." Emma giggled sleepily when Paul pointed out the time. Paul simply rolled his eyes and chuckled. It was comforting to know that she could at least joke about it.</p>
<p>About fifteen minutes later, Paul pulled into the driveway of their quaint little house. A sweet violin played in his head as he carried Emma back into their bedroom and set her down on the bed. As Emma bundled herself up in the warm embrace of the comforter, Paul internally lambasted himself for not only leaving the lights on in the bedroom, but <em>also</em> leaving the front door unlocked. Someone could've <em>easily</em> broken in and robbed them while they were gone, but thankfully, no thief would likely be interested in Paul's DVD collection or Emma's janky old laptop.</p>
<p>"Can I get you anything?" Paul asked dotingly, trying not to melt at the absolutely <em>adorable</em> sight of Emma all curled up in their blanket. "Water? Painkillers?"</p>
<p>"Socks," Emma immediately answered, sticking one foot out from under the blanket. "I used to not understand why you always insisted on sleeping with your socks on, but tonight has taught me a valuable lesson."</p>
<p>"And that is?" Paul pressed, opening their sock drawer and rifling through it for the perfect pair of pajama socks.</p>
<p>"Having cold feet fucking <em>blows</em>."</p>
<p>Paul laughed a little bit harder than he probably should've as he tossed Emma a pair of fuzzy black and yellow socks (or "bee socks", as they had been so lovingly christened when she bought them). No matter what mood he was in, Emma was <em>always</em> able to make him laugh. God, he didn't deserve her, and yet, here she was. As Emma popped the socks onto her feet, Paul turned off the lamp on their bedside table, shrouding the room in darkness. The faint light that shone in from the open door seemed to cast a spotlight on Emma, and Paul felt a pang in his heart. Of what emotion, he wasn't really sure. The whispers in his head began to tell him to leave the room, that she wouldn't want to see him right now. He was dangerous, and it'd be safer if she slept without him here. The whispers could be persuasive little bastards, so Paul listened and began to turn to leave the room. To do what, who knows? Maybe he'd call MacNamara again to properly thank him, or to chew him out for not telling him that he was going to order that he and Emma remained separated at St. Damien's. Maybe he'd make a pot of coffee and chug it just to send his mind into a rhythmic frenzy. But he'd probably just pace around the house for three hours just to get the whispers to <em>shut up</em>.</p>
<p>"Where are you going?" Emma asked, stopping him in his tracks.</p>
<p>Paul glanced back at her, and <em>oh god</em> she was looking at him with those big brown puppy-dog eyes. He felt like he could crumple right then and there. How was he supposed to answer her question without worrying her? "I..." he said quietly, trying to think up a good excuse. "I figured I should wait until the bed's a bit warmer before I join you. You're cold enough as it is, you don't need me freezing you up even more."</p>
<p>Emma squinted up at him, like she wasn't buying his excuse. "Babe, I don't care if your skin feels like Ant-<em>fucking</em>-artica right now," she told him bluntly. "I don't want to sleep alone, I want <em>you</em> here with me. So just come to bed, please?"</p>
<p><em>She's lying to you, Paul,</em> the whispers continued to say. <em>She's just trying to spare your feelings.</em></p>
<p>Compelled as he was to believe them, Paul internally told the whispers to fuck off. Emma was never the type to lie just to spare someone's feelings. The whispers didn't <em>know</em> her. With a muttered "okay", Paul climbed into bed with Emma, who unwrapped half of the comforter from around herself to drape over him. He wrapped his arms around her, and Emma cuddled in closer to his chest with a content little purr. She eyed the scars on his arms, an easy task since they had a faint blue glow to them in the dark, and she began to delicately trace her nails around one on his bicep. Paul winced. Ever since the very first night Paul and Emma shared a bed, Emma had picked up a little habit when it came to his scars. She'd pick out a few bioluminescent blotches, ever so gently trace her nails around one of them, and finish up by placing a quick kiss on it. Rinse and repeat until either she or Paul fell asleep, whichever came first. Paul didn't know <em>why</em> she started doing this, but he'd never questioned her or complained about it before. How could he? It was soothing- if a little ticklish (<em>especially</em> if the scars she chose were on his upper back or abdomen), but the kind of ticklish that was gentle enough to lull one to sleep. Most importantly though, it made Paul feel better about <em>having</em> the scars in the first place. But as Emma went through her normal routine, all Paul could think about was how much he wanted to crawl out of his skin and fit himself into a new <em>completely human</em> one. Once she placed that first kiss on his bicep, Paul physically recoiled from her touch.</p>
<p>"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Emma asked. Oh god, they only ever called each other "sweetheart" when they were <em>really</em> concerned about the other. Paul had worried her with his stupid skittishness. The light from his eyes illuminated her face, and he could see her surveying his features, as though she was trying to read his mind for the source of his anxieties. She brought her hand up to his face to gently hold it, caressing his cheek with her thumb, and he couldn't help but lean into her hand a little. "You wanna talk about what's on your mind?"</p>
<p>Getting the feeling that she wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, Paul nodded. He took a moment to search his mind for what to say. "After tonight, I just feel... wrong," he began with a sigh. "Like, I'm in the wrong body."</p>
<p>"What do you mean?" Emma pressed him on further.</p>
<p>"When we started dating, I felt just as alien as I am," Paul elaborated. "The Apotheosis changed me, in more ways than one. For the longest time, I felt like I didn't <em>belong</em> anymore. But when I was with you, I felt like I was still <em>human</em>. Because you accepted me for who... <em>what</em> I was. You still treated me like I was a normal guy."</p>
<p>Emma nodded, silently urging him to continue. "But tonight..." Paul said, swallowing the lump forming in his throat. "Tonight I hurt you, and now I feel like just another mindless puppet of The Hive. I feel like a <em>monster</em>."</p>
<p>Emma's face fell. "Oh, <em>Paul...</em>" she gasped, running her hand through his hair once more. "I could <em>never</em> feel that way about you! I know that it was an accident!"</p>
<p>"Just because it was an accident, it doesn't change the fact that it still <em>happened!</em>" Paul blurted out. "If I were you, I wouldn't even be able to look me in the eye."</p>
<p>"Okay, but consider this," Emma argued. "<em>You're</em> not me. <em>I'm</em> me. And I know and trust you well enough to know that you would've <em>never</em> done that on purpose. Because I love you, Paul."</p>
<p>Paul gave an involuntary musical-sounding whimper and hugged Emma close. "I love you, too..." he choked out. She embraced him back, and that choir of bells that always seemed to play when he thought about Emma started up in his head again. Right now, they were the only two people in the world. Nothing else mattered. But soon Paul's thoughts wandered to something that had happened earlier that night. "I got into an argument with Tom in the waiting room at St. Damien's. He apologized for it later, but he said that he'd warned you about dating me."</p>
<p>"Yeah, he did," Emma recalled. "And I told him that he wasn't my dad, and that he could shove his unwarranted advice up his ass."</p>
<p>The couple burst out cackling at that. Again, Emma <em>always</em> knew how to make Paul laugh when he was feeling down. Emma finished laughing with a sigh of content. "Hey, Paul?" she asked.</p>
<p>"Yeah?" Paul answered, his own laughter dying down.</p>
<p>"I know I joked about it earlier," she began. "But like... <em>could</em> you sing me to sleep?"</p>
<p>Paul blinked a few times, caught off-guard by her request. "Are you sure it's okay?"</p>
<p>"Mhm." Emma hummed sleepily in reply, already nuzzling into the crook of his neck.</p>
<p>"O-okay..." Paul stammered. "Any requests?"</p>
<p>"Just something chill." she replied.</p>
<p>Okay. Not very specific, but Paul could figure something out. He began to search his mindspace for the right song. Something chill, and preferably something that Emma also happened to <em>like</em>. After about a minute of thinking, Paul found a good song. Maybe not the <em>perfect</em> song, but it would be serviceable. A gentle piano began to play in his head, and Paul cleared his throat.</p>
<p>
  <em>"We all lead such elaborate lives,<br/>Wild ambitions in our sights"</em>
</p>
<p>Paul felt Emma smile against his neck. "Nice." she muttered happily. Paul knew this song, it was from some show called Aida. Emma had mentioned being really into it in highschool because "if it had Adam Pascal in it, I was <em>all over</em> that shit". Paul recognized that name, as he'd been dragged into seeing the film adaptation of Rent by an ex-girlfriend of his during his first year of college. He'd played the pretty-boy guitarist. What was his name again? Ralph? Sure, let's go with Ralph. Anyways, Emma had apparently <em>loved</em> Aida when she was younger, but her opinion on it had kind of soured as an adult. In her own words, "looking back on it, the romance was kind of weird, and it had <em>way</em> too many white people in the cast for a story taking place in Egypt". She still enjoyed the music, however, and this song was a favorite of hers. Paul continued the song.</p>
<p>
  <em>"How an affair of the heart survives,<br/>Days apart and hurried nights"</em>
</p>
<p>Paul honestly wasn't sure why this song had come to mind, aside from the fact that Emma enjoyed it. From what he could tell, this song was about an affair that had blossomed into a genuine romance, which wasn't <em>quite</em> how his relationship with Emma had developed. But then again, he could've been totally off-base. Musical theatre could be deceiving with it's lyrics sometimes, something Paul had learned from experience. Nevertheless, Emma seemed content, so he continued.</p>
<p>
  <em>"Seems quite unbelievable to me<br/>I don't want to live like that<br/>Seems quite unbelievable to me<br/>I don't want to love like that<br/>I just want our time to be<br/>Slower and gentler, wiser, free"</em>
</p>
<p>Now <em>that</em>, Paul could apply to them. Perhaps on impulse, Emma began to sleepily trace around the scar on his bicep again, sending a pleasant shiver through Paul's body. Stroking her hair, he continued to the next verse.</p>
<p>
  <em>"We all live in extravagant times<br/>Playing games we can't all win<br/>Unintended emotional crimes<br/>Take some out, take others in"</em>
</p>
<p>The music was beginning to pick up in both pace and volume, but Paul forced himself to dial it back down. He was singing this as a lullaby, after all. There would be no belting tonight, just soft and slow crooning.</p>
<p>
  <em>"I'm so tired of all we're going through<br/>I don't want to live like that<br/>I'm so tired of all we're going through<br/>I don't want to love like that<br/>I just want to be with you<br/>Now and forever, peaceful, true"</em>
</p>
<p>Realizing a bit too late that this song was a duet, Paul almost stopped singing. But a muffled and sleepy "keep going" from Emma was all it took to get him to continue to the song's climax.</p>
<p>
  <em>"This may not be the moment<br/>To tell you face to face<br/>But I could wait forever<br/>For the perfect time and place</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>We all lead such elaborate lives<br/>We don't know whose words are true<br/>Strangers, lovers, husbands, wives<br/>Hard to know who's loving who"</em>
</p>
<p>Much to Paul's surprise, Emma had started humming along to the final chorus. It was <em>almost</em> like they were singing a duet. A small smile finding it's way onto his face, Paul allowed Emma to hum the next line alone.</p>
<p>
  <em>"Too many choices tear us apart<br/>I don't want to live like that"</em>
</p>
<p>Then, Paul sang the next line on his own.</p>
<p>
  <em>"Too many choices tear us apart<br/>I don't want to love like that"</em>
</p>
<p>And finally, the two finished the song together.</p>
<p>
  <em>"I just want to touch your heart<br/>May this confession be the start"</em>
</p>
<p>Within minutes of concluding the song, Emma had finally drifted off to sleep. And knowing they had a long day together ahead of them, Paul followed suit not long after. They were going to be okay.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you all enjoyed, comments are appreciated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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